


The One Where Harry Twerks (or Liar, Liar)

by jacktheminatureslayer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Closeted Character, Fan!Niall, Harry twerks, Liam is a workaholic, Louis plays Temple Run, M/M, Regular!Louis, famous!harry, famous!zayn, louis works at a coffee shop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacktheminatureslayer/pseuds/jacktheminatureslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lying is probably one of the first traits that Louis ever learned in his life. All it takes is a quirk of an eyebrow or a change in tone to get people to believe him. He's like a magician, really. He makes grand gestures, distracting someone from the truth. Yes, Louis is a great liar.</p><p>AU-It takes an international popstar to get Louis to realize that he's been lying to himself for eight years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Louis the LIar

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this really early in the morning. I really wanted coffee...

You see Louis is a great actor. In fact he regards himself as probably one of the best actors in the world. It’s all about distraction, really. Like a magician, Louis will make grand gestures that distract. Keep the mind following his wiggling eyebrows instead of the panic in his eyes. Yes, Louis is a great actor.

Lying is probably one of the first traits that he had to learn in his life. He was the oldest child and only son so he often received the blunt of expectations no one could really handle especially at the tender age of twelve. He saw the stress it caused his mother (newly married after splitting with his dad ten years ago) for him to do poorly in school or to miss footie practice. So, he lied.

Little things at first, mind you. Getting a poor score on his maths test, missing part of class, or losing his footie ball over their neighbors fence. Quick deflections would distract her from finding out. Eventually the small lies escalated and grew bigger. Starting a fight in school during lunch hour, the occasional detention for a cheeky comment in history class, or skipping school altogether to play footie in the park.

Louis learned how to control his voice and facial expressions to match what he was saying. A flick of an eyebrow when he wants to be sarcastic...an impassive face necessary for denying...he became the master over his own expressions.

It was something he was good at. In his mind, it was the only thing he was good at.

At the bitter age of sixteen, Louis began to realize the tricks he was playing on himself. He was chatting up a girl up in a courtyard when it happened: a sly glance at a bloke’s bicep. Deflection: he was using the girl as a distraction, an illusion to keep himself guessing when in reality, Louis felt a strange sensation in his stomach when he looked at the boy with muscles. He knew the trick. Hell, he invented the trick. Overwhelmed, he left the courtyard in a daze and walked off school grounds. When he had reached a breaking point, he stopped and glared at nothing in particular.

That is not normal. He knew it wasn’t normal because that’s what everyone had said. Louis is scared by his revelation. Tears fell silently as he tried to restrain himself. No, he did not want to touch or caress the boy, because it's _not_ normal. That would make him--

Louis did the only thing that he knew how to do and did well. Louis decided to lie.

***

“Oi, get your disgusting feet _off_ my coffee table.”

“Get your pathetic coffee table out from under my feet.”

Liam and Louis glare at each other before Liam relents and turns away to finish folding his laundry, sprawled out on their flat’s floor. It isn’t much, their flat. Just a small two bedroom, one bathroom, joint-kitchen frontroom type of a thing with disgustingly dull wallpaper. They love it. The coffee table is a new addition, however. Liam’s mum decided to bring it over on a whim yesterday. It’s ugly and stained, but it fits perfectly.

They sit in comfortable silence (Liam breaking it to complain about Louis’s “lack of respect” for perfectly reasonable furniture) for a few hours. Louis watches television, tweeting a bit here and there while Liam organizes and folds his clothing.

“I think I’m going to pick up a shift at the diner later,” Liam says, placing and picking up his clothing in a basket.

Louis hums in response, not bothering to look up from the reruns of Ellen on the television set. Ellen Degeneres just scared Taylor Swift in her dressing room. Swift almost knocked herself out in her fear. He changes the channel after a brief smirk to some awards show. He pauses when he catches a glimpse of one of his favourite actors, Darren Criss, and keeps it there for now.

Liam clears his throat. “Right, well I’ll be going soon then.”

“Alright, babe. Bring back any left over pie,” Louis replies, looking up to smile at his poor flatmate.

Liam just shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun moping about the television.”

Liam dodges the remote controller thrown at his head and chuckles when Louis flips him the bird. He leaves soon after, whistling some new pop song and slamming the door after him. Maybe it’s about time that Louis gets his own flat. One with a working shower, preferably. It’s not like he meant to break it last week. The shower head just collapsed on its own. promise.

The thought is short lived once he realizes that Liam won’t cook or clean for him if he isn’t living with him. So he lets the matter drop to return his attention to Darren Criss’s probably amazing hosting skills when he sees:

 

 

“What?” Louis asks out loud. His somewhat bored and poor mood instantly lifts due to the audacity of whatever poor celebrity this is no doubt trying to mimic the actions of Miley Cyrus just a few days or weeks ago. The audience erupts in both laughter and claps of admiration for the humiliating act.

The scene changes, the boy sitting down again and Darren scattering off to embarrass some other person. For a split second, the camera man catches the kid’s reaction to his own “twerking”.

 

 

“Who is this guy?” Louis whispers to himself, a familiar bubbling feeling in the pits of his stomach. He pushes the sensations away and changes the channel. He’s not really in the mood to watch anymore pop culture shenanigans and he’s certain that One Tree Hill is on. The familiar drama unfolds and Louis instantly clears his mind of hip swirling boys who bite their lip and flaunt their dangerously long, skinny legs. That boy will probably injure himself one day, twerking his way down.

***

The next morning Louis wakes up to sticky pants and sheets. “Shit,” he mutters getting up and ripping the wet clothes from his pelvis. He doesn’t remember much about his dream, but he does remember a guest appearance of Miley and her dancing teddy bears.

He leaves his room with a towel to cross the frontroom into the loo. He finds Liam asleep on their couch still in his work uniform. The smell of grease and baked goods seep into the cushions. “Li…” Louis whispers and runs his hand across his face. Liam works himself too hard. There’s a good chance he spent the night detail cleaning the dining room floors of the restaurant.

Louis takes in the sight of tangled brown hair, wide and filled shoulders, and a pink, puffy mouth, opened slightly in his sleep. This is his best mate. The bloke that he spent his uni years with crying over mid-terms and drinking themselves pissed. Louis rolls his eyes at the mess of a man and sneaks into his room to grab a blanket. Fondly, he covers him and waits a few seconds before retreating into the bathroom for a much needed scrub down.

They weren’t supposed to get along, Liam and Louis and they didn’t at first. All Liam asked of from his dorm mate was that he did his laundry and kept his things on his side of the dorm. All Louis asked of Liam was to leave him alone. Their fights were loud and often ended up with someone sleeping at a friend’s place.

It wasn’t until the end of the semester that Louis found out. He was out late with a few of his drama friends quoting their favourite movies and drinking to pass the time. At about eleven at night, Louis got a text from Liam asking him to spend the night somewhere else. Louis was surprised, but responded with an agreement.

One o’clock rolled around and Louis was pissed out of his mind. One of his fellow students had to carry him back to his dorm and they stopped a few times to let Louis throw his breakfast, lunch, and dinner up and into shrubs and passing rubbish bins. He thanked the boy, promising to repay him someday and fumbled with unlocking his door.

The sight is unforgettable, even for a drunk student. Liam bent over his bed, moaning and panting while some faceless stranger pounded into him. Louis didn’t dare move, but he let out a strained squeak at the sight.

“The hell?” Liam cursed once he caught sight of his dorm mate.

Louis fled. He stumbled into the dorm showers and toilets and sat against the wall ignoring the questioning looks of the blokes. Liam Payne, his dorky dormmate that bleached the floors every weekend, was being fucked by someone. A guy. The guy’s cock was in his arse. He enjoyed having the guy’s cock in his arse. His thoughts continued this way until his stomach gave in and he dry heaved against the tile-floor.

“Louis?”

Fuck. No. No, he couldn’t deal with this right now. He couldn’t look into Liam’s eyes without remembering the moaning. Liam sat next to him against the wall and they stared away from each other for a very long time.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you. I also wasn’t planning on you storming in tonight…” Liam’s voice trails off. He takes a breath before continuing. “So there you have it, Louis Tomlinson. I’m--well, I’m gay.”

Louis’s head snaps up at that word and he stares into Liam’s milk-chocolate coloured eyes. Finding his voice, Louis replies, “Okay.”

Liam frowns. “Okay?”

Louis nods. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

That was that. They stopped fighting. Louis even invited Liam out with him and his mates and discovered Liam to be a very loyal and caring bloke. They chose to continue living together as life went on. Other friends came and left, but Liam and Louis stuck around. Louis wasn’t a hundred percent honest with Liam at times, but for the most part, Louis felt himself open to Liam.

There was something about Liam that Louis trusted and relied on. Now their living their separate lives together and they wouldn’t have asked for it any other way.

Louis finishes his bath (begrudgingly accepting that the showerhead will not magically fix itself if he swore at it) and leaves the flat for work at the coffee shop down the street. It’s a shit job with shit wages, but he refuses to work at the diner with Liam. Louis loves him, but he doesn’t necessarily want to see him every five seconds.

“Tommo!” Niall’s voice booms once Louis slips inside.

Louis waves in reply and fumbles to tie his apron on before the usual seven o’clock rush. “Have a good night?” Niall asks, slouching over the counter.

“The usual,” Louis responds with a wave of a hand.

“So you drooled over Chad Michael Murray then?” Niall jokes, smirking at the appalled face Louis gives him. “Relax, Lou. Only joking. Jesus, you’re the straightest bloke I know.”

Louis does relax at these words and smirks at his co-worker. “Speaking of, you still obsessed with those posh blokes who sing pop? What are they called…?”

“One Direction?” Niall answers, stealing a bit of a blueberry muffin they’re supposed to sell. “Not obsessed.”

Louis slaps his hand. “Don’t touch the goods, babe. Fine, not obsessed. Fixated more like.”

Niall’s face flushes in irritation. “No, I just like their music.”

“Mmmmhm…”

“Seriously. They have some really catchy tunes.”

Louis rolls his eyes and steals Niall’s phone off the counter and easily unlocks it (he’s had the same passcode for over a year now) to get to his photo album. There he finds quite the stash of photographs:

 

  
  

 

“...and what are these?” Louis accuses, holding Niall’s phone just out of reach. He snags it back quickly (damn the short genes) and flushes.

“I think we have some customers,” he mutters and shuffles away, shoving his phone in his pocket as he goes.

***

Louis’s shift stretches on today with only three or four rushes of customers. This is because the weather outside is bad (even for London). Thick sheets of rain slam against the roof of the shop and Louis sends Niall home early (“Get your Irish arse out of my shop! I don’t care how talented they are, I'm tired of hearing it!”). The few customers that have come are huddled in the corner booths and tables, waiting for the storm to pass so they can go to their respective houses.

At around two in the afternoon, Louis realizes that he will probably die of boredom. He is alone and impatiently waiting for his shift to end at four. His phone could only keep his attention for so long before he gave up. Louis grabs the nearest cup and doodles on it with a pen by the register. Just silly pictures. This doesn’t hold his attention at all and he drops the cup in favour of doodling a penis on the counter. His boss Simon will not be happy with the added decoration, but Louis could care less.

He hears the door chime and the fumbled steps of a customer, but he’s too busy getting the head _just right_ to look up. The person doesn’t interrupt him, but Louis can hear whoever it is get antsy. The heels of their feet tap against the tile floor with every bouncy and fidgety movement they make.

“How can I help you today?” Louis drones the question asked a hundred times a day. He caps his pen and looks up.

There’s a bloke with curly hair plastered against his head, shivering and dripping on his tile. He’s smiling a dimpled face smile at Louis’s masterpiece etched in the counter. He’s faintly familiar, but that could just mean he’s a regular. Louis’s horrible at remembering regulars. Simon chews him out over it all the time  _(_ _Please don’t order “your usual”_ he begs to the customer in his mind).

The boy (must have just entered his twenties or something) seems to realize that Louis had asked him a question because he looks up and beams at him. Dazed and bewildered, Louis frowns and runs a hand through his hair.

“I would like some coffee,” he says with another blinding grin, this time showing off his teeth. His voice is incredibly low and rough. Louis isn’t sure whether to be jealous or annoyed by it.

“Would you?” Louis responds with fake enthusiasm he saves for his more annoying customers. This is a coffee shop, after all. It’s not like he’s here to order a tuba.

He nods his head, but his eyebrows furrow a bit. “Heeeey,” the boy drawls slowly. “You’re making fun of me.”

Louis pauses at this for a split second before he smiles his own blinding smile and asks, “What kind of coffee would you like, babe? The menu is just over my head.”

The kid stares at Louis before taking a deep breath and running his hand through his drenched hair. His gaze flicks up above Louis’s head where Louis knows the menu is. He takes this opportunity to reach over and adjust the lids and cups while he waits for the customer to place his order.

Minutes that feel like hours pass and Louis gives up on his pretense of politely waiting for playing another game of Temple Run on his phone. “What are you doing?” the boy asks before leaning over the counter and trying to steal a peek at Louis’s screen.

Louis steps out of reach, smirking at the pout the boy gives him. His hair has dried into a flop of tendrils and he’s stopped his shivering. “Are you pouting at me?” Louis asks more intrigued than irritated this time.

“No,” he responds, still pouting. “What are you plaaaying Lewiiiis.”

Louis can’t help but laugh at the grown ass man acting like a five year old. “None of your business…?” he let’s his voice tilt in a question tone at the end. It's not like customers wear nametags like he's forced to.

“Harry,” he responds, his eyebrows furrowing again.

Louis grins at him. “None of your business, _Harry-the-Two-Year-Old_.”

Harry’s pout falls and he grins a bit before moving forward and grabbing Louis’s phone. “Oi!” Louis hisses, but it’s no use.

“Temple Run? You’re really ignoring a paying customer for _Temple Run_?” his slow voice chokes up into laughter and he straightens himself to his full height, raising the phone way up and out of Louis’s reach.

Fuck this guy is tall. “Gimme my phone! You were taking forever to order!” Louis yells and scrambles across the counter to retrieve what is his.

“Nope, I’m not giving you your phone.” Harry winks and steps back before bringing the phone down and playing with it.

“What. Are. You. Doing?!” Louis huffs while crawling over the counter and crashing onto the floor.

Harry doesn’t even look over, just flicks a finger on the screen. “Temple Run.”

_What?_  Louis groans and lunges at him. “Gimme my phone,” he pants.

Harry just turns away, avoiding each effort easily. Louis glares at him before rolling up his sleeves and attacking. Harry instantly begins to giggle as Louis pokes and flicks at any and every tickle zone he learned from tickling his younger sisters. Harry squeals and tries to get away, but Louis corners him into a wall, mercilessly tickling him.

“Okay,” he gasps. “Here take your stupid phone. I broke your record already.”

Louis stops and snatches his phone back, groaning at the high score on the screen. “Since when did you master Temple Run, kid?”

Harry shrugs and pokes Louis’s forehead. “Where’s my coffee?”

Louis huffs but moves behind the counter again to brew up...something. He decides to do the cafe coffee, a drink every other person orders since it’s straight up black coffee. He’ll let Harry put whatever he wants in it. He finishes quickly and turns around to grab an empty cup. Harry is taking a picture of the crudely drawn phallus on the counter with his phone, grinning like the two year old he is.

Louis rolls his eyes and reaches for an empty cup. Harry asks, “Could we use this one instead?” and holds out the forgotten doodled cup.

“Yeah fine, whatever,” Louis replies and holds out his hand for it.

Harry gives it over, beaming. Louis ignores the bubbling feeling he feels in his stomach and pours the drink. Once Harry’s settled into his coffee, Louis turns around and fiddles with the machine, dropping packets of sugar on the floor in his efforts. Cursing, he bends down to pick them up and hears Harry choke. Louis snaps up quickly and looks back at the boy, worried that his coffee killed someone.

Harry blushes and scratches the back of his neck, avoiding Louis’s eyes. “You all right there, kid?” Louis asks him, relieved to see that he’s okay.

“Erm--yeah, just--yeah...hey, your tattoos look really good!” he stammers and shouts the last bit, floundering and pointing a long finger at Louis’s recently uncovered arms. Harry’s face has gone beyond red, reaching the tips of his ears.

“Thanks.” Louis frowns.

Harry nods and waves him off, looking around for what seems to be the first time. “Is it usually this abandoned?” he asks.

“On apocalyptic days? Yes, it’s usually empty,” Louis answers. He turns around again bends over to pick the sugar packets up a second time.

“Hmmm…” Harry hums a content response. “So...how much longer are you here for?

Louis stands up again and stuffs the sugar packets into their bin before turning back to Harry. He’s leaning over the counter again, biting his lower lip. Louis checks the time on his phone. “I have about an hour. Why?”

“You want to get a coffee or something after you get off?” he asks, green eyes big.

Louis smiles at Harry fondly before responding, “I don’t know if you noticed, babe, but we’re in a coffee shop.”

Harry blinks a couple of times. “Oh, yeah...lunch then?”

He pats Harry’s head and grabs his phone (he will beat that ridiculously high score). “I’ve got plans. Maybe some other time,” he dismisses him with a quick grin. It’s not a lie, Liam and Niall want to get together to play FIFA and drink the stock of beer in Louis’s flat.

Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing again. “Right...well I guess I’ll see you later?” he asks.

 

“Sure you will,” Louis confirms, patting his head a second time. “Would you like my number?”

HIs whole face lights up and he shoves his hand in his trousers to grab his mobile and all but throws it at Louis. Placing his own phone down, Louis unlocks Harry’s phone and sees a familiar face in the background:

 

 

 

“So you’re a fan of that boy band too, eh?” Louis asks Harry, flicking his fingers across the menu and finding the contacts. He adds his name as **_Louis the Coffee God_** and promptly hands the device back.

Harry looks...Louis isn’t sure what Harry looks like. He could be constipated for all Louis can tell from his expression. “Hey, it’s fine, relax. One of my best mates is in love with that guy too. I hear they’re a good group, although the other guy is something of a womanizer or something.” Louis shrugs. He mostly only hears about One Direction from his younger sisters and Niall. They’re still a pretty new group.

Harry’s still quiet, watching Louis as though he’s about to burst into flames. It’s unnerving, really. “Hey, _seriously_ it’s fine, babe. You can be a fan of what ever you want to be a fan of as long as you don’t take it too far.” Louis laughs at the thought of Harry trying to steal a lock of hair from some celebrity. He seems like the type to fall hard fast.

“They’re all right…” Harry begins to break from his trance so Louis reassures him with his best smile, the one that crinkles his eyes.

  
“Yeah? Okay, well you best be off. You seem like you’re pretty busy.” Louis claps Harry’s back and Harry leaves glancing a final time over his shoulder at the coffee boy with a bright smile and a great arse.


	2. Niall the Superfan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick shout-out to those individuals who left comments and compliments! You're all lovely. Now prepare to meet: Niall, the superfan!

“Holy shit,” Niall whispers under his breath.

Louis currently is having his face eaten off by some bird he met only five minutes ago while Niall checked through his tumblr and twitter dashboards. His friends and fellow fandom members have been going ballistic for the past five hours since Harry tweeted that. No one’s sure whether it’s new lyrics for the album or something that is actually happening to the bloke because he has the most ambiguous twitter updates. This tweet is special because it’s been three weeks since his last tweet. Not that Niall is counting.

Honestly, Niall never expected to get this deep into the fandom. He watched their season of X-Factor because of his not-so-subtle crush on Cher Lloyd. Harry Styles and Zayn Malik originally auditioned as solo artists but were put together last minute. Niall can’t recall how he started to like them. They seemed like underdogs, groups never lasted long in the competition. Worst of all, Harry and Zayn were the instant favourites of every twelve year old girl in the UK.

Niall thinks he was drawn in by the fact that they didn’t take the competition so seriously. Yeah, they were there to get as far as they could and to grow as musicians, but they also enjoyed themselves. Although they did work hard too, obvious by how their vocals and “togetherness” improved. Suffice to say that Niall was gutted when they took third place. By that time their fanbase had grown international and everyone agreed that they wouldn’t let One Direction stop after the competition.

Their first single hit sold records within twenty-four hours of it’s release. The accompanying album broke sale records for every other band’s first album sales. Niall found himself buying each album released and even voting for choice awards online. One Direction have earned three Brit Awards in their three years of being a group and they’ve earned it becoming the biggest british boy band to come along since the Beatles.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Had to get the diner ready for the shipment coming in tonight,” Liam says, plopping into the bar stool next to Niall and giving him a meaningful look.

Liam is a "secret directioner”. Niall prides himself knowing that he got one of his best mates into the band (It wasn’t really that hard. All he had to do was show Liam the photoage of Zayn buying his mother a house). Not as far as Niall (who still has gay fanfiction downloaded on his computer), but far enough to know that he’s also up to date with the Styles twitter update today.

The secret part stems with the fact that Liam’s life revolves around Louis. It was weird when NIall first started hanging out with the two of them because their interactions were so...confusing, he guesses. Louis is beyond protective of Liam and Niall has witnessed one too many bar fights that started with some passing rude slur aimed at Liam’s sexuality. While Louis protects Liam, Liam mothers Louis. He’s always catering to Louis’s needs. If Niall didn’t know any better, he would have suspected them to be a couple. Now Niall just has a sneaking suspicion that Louis was the first person outside of Liam’s family to accept him, homosexual and all. Not that they really talk about that kind of sappy shit with Niall.

Louis takes his tongue out of the bird’s throat long enough to turn to Liam with a cheeky grin. The girl just drops down and starts sucking lovebites on his neck while he points across the pub. “You’ve got quite the selection of fine fellows tonight, Payne. The bloke with the dark blue sweater, blondie with the tight jeans, curly top with the cocktail, and my personal favourite--some hipster bloke that looks more homeless than half the people on the streets,” Louis tells Liam.

“Not really up for a one-night stand tonight, Lou,” Liam answers with a shrug. “Was looking forward to catching up and downing some pints.”

To an outsider, this interaction would probably seem peculiar. Niall doesn’t know how Louis Tomlinson does it, but he goes beyond his protective brother mode some nights to include wingman responsibilities. He can literally be plastered to twenty different girls and still point out blokes for Liam to take home.

Louis, girl still clinging onto him like a leech, frowns at Liam. “Li, I know for a fact you haven’t been laid in several weeks. I have like second-hand blue balls just thinking about it.” The bird still chewing at his neck growls at his last statement and gropes freely at his crotch. Sadly, Niall has seen Louis interact with more handsy girls.

“Just tired of casual sex,” Liam explains.

Louis stares for a bit before bending down and re-attaching his lips to the girl trying to give him a handjob through his trousers. Liam’s nose wrinkles up at the scene before him and Niall exchange a knowing look. Louis doesn’t go beyond one-night stands. Liam has confessed to Niall that he’s never actually seen the same girl ar their flat twice.

After some small talk, Louis pulls away and whispers something to the girl. There’s a good chance that, were it physically possible, her knickers would have fallen off so quickly that it would have left a mark on the wooden floor boards. She gives Louis a meaningful look and runs off to grab her stuff from her long-forgotten group of friends. He watches after her with this...look on his face. Niall can’t stand that look.

It’s that look that pushed Niall to originally try and get Louis to do relationships. He started by trying to get Louis to call at least _one_ of the girls he shared the night with again for a proper date (Louis laughed at the idea) and then he tried to set up an online dating profile for him (Louis hasn’t even looked at it once) ending on setting him up on blind dates (Louis never went to them). Niall has long since given up, but he can’t stand that look. It makes him want to hunch over his knees and heave his nachos on the floor. Louis looks so...disgusted with himself.

She returns quickly and the look is wiped away in favour of an easy smile. He wraps his arm around her and pats Niall’s and Liam’s backs before leaving. Liam stares after him for a bit and turns to Niall. “Didn’t think Louis went for curly tops?”

“Louis has a type?” Niall jokes, chasing away the metallic taste on his tongue with a swig of his pint.

Liam shrugs at the this and then pulls out his phone. “So, Harry Styles has gotten his drink sweetened,” he states and shows Niall the tweet.

He laughs at the off-handed innuendo. “Looks like it. Do you think it was Zayn?” Niall’s almost positive that there’s something going on between the two. They’re always cuddling and smiling at each other. His tumblr account is dedicated to what the fandom calls “Zarry” interactions.

“Nah, Zayn is in Sydney volunteering with the natural disaster relief foundation,” LIam says instantly.

Niall smirks and watches Liam’s neck redden. It’s no secret why Liam hasn’t been into casual sex lately--he’s been charmed senseless by Zayn Malik. It’s funny now that Niall used to think that Liam was head over heels for Louis and suffering a life of unrequited love. “Been stalking him, have you?” Niall teases.

The red on his neck spreads to the tip of his ears and Liam stammers, “You’re really one to talk, Horan.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t judging, mate. Just teasing,” he says and then quickly moves past this topic (still a bit embarrassed about his small, itty bitty obsession with the band). “You think Styles will actually settle down?”

“You know how I feel about Harry,” Liam dismisses the question and scrolls through his newly acquired tumblr. Niall sees him pause at a picture of Zayn hugging one of his younger fans and his face breaks into a fond smile.

Harry Styles has been portrayed as the charming womanizer since his audition at X-Factor while Zayn took on the role of a soft-spoken leader. It was easy to tell early on in the competition how protective Zayn was over Harry which lead to the Zarry speculations, but mostly it made the band even more lovable. Still the media has connected Harry to everyone from Caroline Flack to Taylor Swift and, even more recently, Kendall Jenner. It’s annoying because he’s some “heartless bad boy” in the magazines while on X-Factor he was the first one to get emotional at the drop of a hat.

Liam believes that Harry is actually gay and has been pushed into situations to cover-up this fact. Apparently their fan demographic wouldn’t be able to stand a homosexual running around on stage and tripping over himself while trying to the nail his solos. It’s funny really how Liam came to his conclusion (“There’s nothing platonic about that look he’s giving that radio show bloke”) and now Niall’s has come to terms with it. He’s even gone so far as to getting his followers on twitter and tumblr to agree with him.

“Want to come to my place tonight?” Niall asks after hours of theory exchanges and then actual catching up with each other’s weeks.

Liams looks relieved. “Thanks mate, she seemed particularly clingy. He’s going to have a hard time kicking her out.”

Niall agrees with a grunt and tips their bartender before leaving the pub for a night of FIFA and directioner quotes.

***

“Your laptop made a noise!” Liam calls to Niall, not lifting his eyes from the screen where he is dominating his game.

Niall grabs the two bottles of beer from his fridge and balances a bowl of crisps in his arms. He somehow makes it to his frontroom without tripping and spilling everything everywhere and sets it all down for consumption. It’s nearly one in the morning now and both of them are too pumped to give two shits about sleeping. It’s officially the weekend. Liam will probably take a shift at the diner later today, but right now they’ve got nothing planned and it’s a great feeling.

“Do you think that Zayn even realizes how perfect he is?” Liam asks, chugging some beer.

Niall has to stop and think about this. They’re real people… “Nah probably not, but I’m sure there are people willing to remind him,” he answers and checks his laptop.

Two tweet updates within twenty-four hours? Wow, Harry’s spoiling his fans today. “Looks like he’s back in London. How about you tell him?”

“What?” Liam tears his eyes from the television screen and looks at the newest tweet picture. “Oh my god,” he whispers to himself.

Niall chuckles at Liam’s reaction and updates his tumblr about the new tweet with Zarry tags. So Zayn’s apparently staying at Harry’s? Doesn’t he have his own flat? His followers are just going to eat this up.

Liam’s mobile rings and he answers it after the second ring and checking the display. “Lou?” he says into it.

Niall looks up at his laptop to listen to Liam’s part of the conversation: “I’m fine...just at Niall’s...why are you awake?...not tired...don’t be a twat to her...you should at least call her to apologize…yes, that is twat-ish behavior...make yourself something to eat...Niall said I could stay the night and I’m just a little buzzed….no, prat, not pissed just buzzed...I’m not an alcoholic, Tomlinson!...eat the leftover pasta, you’re not going to starve after one night….no, you’re not...I swear to god if you don’t get up off the floor and eat that pasta I will tell Niall about March 15th...good, love you…” he laughs a bit before finishing, “you complete and utter arsehole! See you later,” and hanging up.

“What’d Tommo want?” he asks Liam.

Liam just smiles and small smile before answering. “He just wanted to accuse me of homicide because I never went home to feed him.”

Niall groans. “God, he’s like a glorified two-year-old.”

Liam nods his head in agreement with a far-away look in his eyes. If Niall didn’t know better, he’d accuse him of fancying Louis, but he does know better. He knows that they’re like brothers, really. Brothers that act like an old married couple.

“Fancy another round of FIFA?” Niall asks Liam, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“You’re on.”

***

Harry has been staring at his phone for the past agonizing twelve hours. He had found the boy's number easily on his phone and shot him (what he believed to be) a clever text: _Beat my score yet?_ He's starting to think that maybe it wasn't obvious who had texted him. Maybe Louis-the-cute-coffee-shop-employee had a lot of people texting him about scores and beatings...that just put weird sexual thoughts in Harry's head.

"Hey mate, are you okay? You keep muttering 'coffee' and 'perfect arse'," Zayn, his best mate and better half asks Harry.

Harry falls into his sofa and moans into the leather cushions. 

"I'm going out on a limb hear and saying that means: 'no, Zayn, I'm not okay and that's why I tweeted about my drink between sweetened by the company of another person twelve hours ago making you panic and come home early'," he mimics Harry's low voice and shoves Harry's dead weight over before cuddling into the boy. "Want to tell me what's going on?" he finishes in a soothing voice. He begins to massage small circles between Harry's shoulder blades.

Utterly relaxed, Harry turns his head to face his best mate. He huffs, "I met a cute boy who gave me his number, but he hasn't responded to my text."

"That's what you've been moping on about since you picked me up? Being ignored via messaging?! You prat, you had me thinking that the paps finally got to you or something," Zayn growls fondly at the pouting boy.

"The paps don't help," Harry tries to redeem himself.

Zayn just rolls his eyes and sighs, "Pretty sure that one cute boy won't be the death of you, Harry."

"He wasn't just cute, though. He drew a penis on the counter! He--he plays Temple Run, poorly, but still...and he has the most beautiful pair of eyes, Zayn. You'd have to see them. It's like he captured a bit of sky."

Zayn chokes back a laughter. "This is why I double check the lyrics you write. I don't want to sing songs about rainbows and kitten tails. I don't need our entire fan base listening to us sing about your pinings."

Just as Harry opens his mouth to complain about Zayn's lack of respect for proper poetry, his phone vibrates. His whole body twists and jumps for his mobile device and Zayn is thrown off the couch. Louis's responded:

_Not all of us have the time to waste on cellular games, Harold._

Harry's mind is chanting  _he responded, he responded, he reponded_ and he nearly misses Zayn's question. "What?" he asks him putting on his best innocent face.

Zayn rolls his eyes and repeats, "He does realize that it's nearly three in the morning, right? I assume it's him responding to your text, you've gotten a crazed look in your eyes."

"Maybe he can't sleep?" Harry wonders an answer out loud.

"Right, well I'll leave you to drool over your mobile. I've got massive jet lag." He leaves with a pitiful look on his face to steal Harry's bed. Harry doesn't mind though, _Louis texted back_!

He does feel guilty for not explaining the whole situation to Zayn. Louis was cute (who is he kidding? Louis is fucking fit) yes, but he also didn't recognize Harry. He didn't already have a media suggested stereotype of Harry and he sure as hell didn't treat Harry like he was special for having millions of followers on twitter. He treated Harry like a regular person, granted, he did treat Harry like he was a crazed child, but he didn't even attempt to suck up to him and that already puts him Harry's good books. The plus side is that he really does have a great butt.

Harry takes a while to think of an appropriate response: _None of those poor excuses, Louis. Admit that I am the master of Temple Run._   _Btw, n_ _ame's not Harold. Just_ _Harry._

He watches his phone until it lightens with Louis's next message:  _Don't claim titles with your limited talent, Harold._ _  
_

Harry can't keep himself from beaming. Louis's just so _different_ from everyone else he's talked to. Harry loves the feeling of being on edge, never certain of the response he'll get from the boy. A weird thought seeps from the back of his mind, what happens when Louis figures out about Harry's celebrity status? It's careless and selfish, but Harry hopes that he never finds out. He misses having proper friends that don't expect things from him.

 _If you don't mind me asking, why are you up so late?_ he types out and pauses before sending.

Louis's response comes quickly:  _Could ask you the same thing, Curly. It so happens that I'm the_ _proper_ adult  _here, so I'll answer your petty question. I am awake because I am hungry._

Harry can't help but laugh. Proper adult? He doesn't seem much older than himself and Harry doesn't care much for age. He's dated blokes nearly twice his age before. To his surprise, Louis sends another message: _What's Harold doing up so late then?_  

 _My best mate has stolen my bed_ , he replies. It's not a lie, he just omits the part where he was too upset to go to sleep.

 _Looks like we both have mate issues. Mine left me all alone to starve while he went to play video games at an Irish man's flat. I may never recover from such betrayal._ Louis sends. Harry tries not to laugh too much, but Louis is being so silly.

He sighs fondly at his screen when Louis sends him a follow-up message:  _Also, the Irish one worships pop bands. I don't want him corrupting Liam. He's so innocent._ _  
_

 _Liam's the one that abandoned you?_   Harry asks.

 _Yes and Niall's the one that's obsessed with that band with a porn sounding name. You've got a picture of one of them on your phone. I know, because he's trying to seduce me into his ways. Help me, Harold. I'm too pretty to fall in love with pop sensations._ Harry's giggles have turned into snorts and he hears Zayn yell, "Stop flirting and go to bed!"

He ignores Zayn and type out: I _promise to save you from the seducing ways of your Irish fan-boy._

_Thank you, Harold. I must retire for my beauty sleep. Rest your head of curls and dream of Temple Run. I will beat your score._

Harry falls asleep soon after that, not even bothering to grab a pillow or change into more comfortable clothing. Regardless, he sleeps easily and dreams of blue eyes, tattoos, and crinkly eyed smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://jacktheminiatureslayer.tumblr.com/)


	3. Zayn the Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a request for longer chapters: here you go! I was going to split it up, but I couldn't work out how to do it so this is more of me being lazy. 
> 
> Prepare to meet: Zayn the Best Friend!

“Zaynie! We’re basically married!!” Harry climbs over the limousine seating until he’s directly in Zayn’s lap.

Zayn looks down at the boy in exasperation. He’s only been here one day and he already regrets coming to check on Harry’s well-being. Also, he needs a drink. He needs several drinks to get himself through this chaotic mess of Harry finding himself a new love interest. “Married?” he asks the boy.

Harry nods his head firmly. “He watches One Tree Hill.”

For the life of him, Zayn can’t follow Harry’s logic and resorts to asking, “What does that have to do with matrimony?”

“I love Chad Michael Murray,” Harry exuberates, sighing against Zayn’s collar bones.

Disgusting. “You are the weirdest flirter I’ve ever encountered,” he announces as Harry stares greedily at his mobile screen, waiting in anticipation. “If I recall correctly, aren’t you supposed to keep conversations around dicks and--oh, I don’t know--getting each other off?”

Harry crawls off his lap and stares at him as though he’s some kind of barbarian. Of course Harry’s worried about the virtue of this bloke he’s met at a coffee shop. “Harry, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but...do you even know that he’s--well, into blokes?”

A revelation of sorts crashes across Harry’s features and Zayn hears himself rambling, “I mean--you’re famous, H--he might take advantage--sell you out to the paps or something...fake affection…?” he finishes lamely. He just doesn’t want Harry getting hurt.

Just watching him all day, face lighting up with each text, reminds him of the Harry he first knew. The one that cried when he nearly didn’t make it past boot camp in the X-Factor competition. The one that hugged Zayn like he was the only thing that mattered when he agreed to being in a group with him. The one that cried from stress and nerves before they got on stage their first time. The one who beamed at every fan letter and blushed at every compliment. The one that held Zayn’s hand while they waited for their names to be called in the final three--and when it wasn’t--the one that smiled a broken smile while congratulating the finalists.

The look Zayn sees on Harry’s face now--the worried, nervous, and scared look--reminds Zayn of the Harry after the X-Factor competition. The one that was singled out as being “the flirt” and; therefore, “the womanizer”. The one that had to sign a contract with Zayn about their sexuality. The one that crawled into himself in interviews that bypassed their musical talent and focused on his promiscuity. The one that’s scared to even talk to females in case they get pulled into his reputation. The one that gets the paps who aren’t nice, who yell at him to get a reaction because “You’re such a slag, Styles.”

Zayn feels sick. He pulls the boy back into his lap and whispers against his forehead, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Zaynie,” Harry pulls away and stares intensely at him. “Even if he’s not interested like that--I mean, I’d be gutted, but,” he takes a stuttering breath, holds it, and releases it before finishing, “I don’t just like him because he’s fit. I like him because he’s--well, because he’s genuine. He treats me like people did before…” his voice trails off as our vehicle comes to a stop.

Suddenly, Zayn doesn’t feel like going to another award show anymore. “William, take us to a park,” he instructs their driver.

William whips around in his seat and stares blankly in response. Zayn has to keep himself from rolling his eyes. “I’m sure we won’t be missed,” he insists, pointing forward through the windshield in the direction of anywhere-but-here.

“But your agent-” he starts.

Zayn cuts him off. “My agent has more than enough publicity to go off on after the twerking stunt Harry pulled last time--”

“Heeeey, I couldn’t say ‘no’--”

“And I would like you to take us to a park. One with slides.” Zayn levels a look with the man to let him know that no, he does not have a choice in the matter.

William shuffles about before sighing and turning back to face the road muttering something along the lines of ‘demanding-little-shit’. Zayn chooses to ignore it, opting to tickle Harry until he gets a dimpled smile.

***

“One Direction is ‘Missing in Action’,” Liam reads out loud to himself from his mobile screen. There’s an unflattering picture of Harry taken months ago tagging the tweet. Pulling up an article, Liam reads that apparently their limo pulled up to the event, but then sped off randomly. Nobody was quick enough to tail it and now no one knows where the pop-stars are.

He unlocks the door to his flat and steps in, not entirely certain what to think about the news other than: _I hope Zayn is okay._

Liam is faced with a familiar scene once he steps in: Louis is lying face down on the floor, sprawled out like a human starfish. His mobile is resting next to his head that turns quickly at the sound of Liam’s arrival.

“Liam-God-Damn-Payne, the hell have you been?” he hisses and narrows his eyes.

Liam gulps and pretends to look indifferent to the death glares as he carries his newly acquired groceries to their kitchen. “I told you to eat the pasta in the fridge.”

“I did! Hours ago! I thought you’d be here at noon not the dead of night.” Liam hears Louis shuffle from the ground and clammer onto their kitchen counter top. Germs. Louis is the most unsanitary person he’s ever met. At least Liam prides himself knowing that he doesn’t have to bleach everything all the time anymore now that Louis gotten better at cleaning after himself.

They’ve been close ever since Louis easily accepted Liam’s sexuality. At the time, Liam was expecting him to move out like every other roommate, but he didn’t. In fact, Louis started actually trying to get to know Liam better and...Liam wasn’t sure how to react to that. Like every other gay romance television series, he fell for Louis.

Looking back on it all now, Liam can’t help but feel massively embarrassed by the whole thing. He cooked and cleaned after Louis, making sure that he was completely comfortable. They chatted through long hours of the night about everything--philosophy, pizza, family...and at one point, their love interests. Liam fell for the straight boy that never settled down. Thought that he could fix him, somehow. Fix that hole that Louis always covered.

It never helped that Louis got so damned protective of Liam. When his dad would call--drunk and angry--Louis was there to tell him off, cussing up a storm. When a group of men would gang up on them, Louis threw himself at them, fists flying. When a lover decided to end things with Liam, Louis was there to threaten and kick them out.

What Louis couldn’t protect Liam from was himself. The unrequited love for his roommate for six years has seen some things. Heartbreaking things. Louis isn’t shy about his sexuality for one thing, he likes girls and he isn’t afraid to tell anyone and everyone about it. He brought women home as often as he could and Liam often found himself storming out of his own flat to stay anywhere else.

Louis also had it in his head that Liam needed men as much as Louis needed women. They would go out and as soon as Louis found another man to be satisfactory and non-threatening, he would basically push Liam into his arms. It hurt at first, but numbed after Liam convinced himself that Louis just wants him to be happy. He’d give into going home with the strangers usually after seeing Louis with another pick of the night, giving that person the affection that Liam so craved.

It’s only recently that he’s let himself let go of Louis, realizing that it’s stupid to pine after straight boys and even more stupid pining after your best mate. He’s been pulling back, working more to get out of the flat, cooking less so Louis will stop leeching off him, and even going so far as to going to the gym and working off the stress and gaining some self-confidence.

The last piece of “Liam trying to get his life back together” came in the form of Zayn Malik. Liam has decided that letting Niall show him his tumblr out of pure curiosity was the best and worst decision he has ever made. It’s stupid, really, that he’s let himself fancy the international popstar. What’s worse than being in love with your best mate? Falling for a guy with millions of fans and way out of his league. It’s ironic that he feels like he has more of a chance with a popstar than with Louis.

“Leeee-yuuuum!” Louis shouts, waving his hand in front of Liam’s face.

Liam blinks at him and frowns. “What?”

Louis pouts at the frown. “What are we having for dinner? I haven’t eaten in ages!”

Liam’s eyes narrow and he doesn’t even bother asking, he just turns around and opens the fridge to see that, yes, Louis never touched the pasta. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Liam snaps, whipping back around and glaring at his ridiculous roommate.

Louis winces. “Language, Payne. We aren’t barbarians.”

“Why didn’t you eat?! Why can’t you just feed yourself??” he yells while throwing groceries where ever, he’ll organize it all better later. He’s not really in the mind set to patiently keep the kitchen in order.

“Hey! I can take care of myself. I was going to call take-away if you hadn’t have come after another hour.” Louis smiles an apologetic smile at Liam and Liam can feel himself giving in.

He pulls the pasta out of the fridge and heats it up. He avoids looking at Louis until it’s finished and he drops the dish on the counter before him. Louis picks up his fork tentatively and then scarfs the spaghetti down. When he finishes, he drops from his place where he sat on the counter and embraces Liam. A bit shocked (Louis isn’t much of a cuddler), Liam stands there and let’s Louis murmur his apologies into his chest.

“Thanks, Li,” Louis says while pulling away. He smiles and trots out of the kitchen, dirtied plate forgotten.

Liam curses and pushes the plate into their sink. It clatters at the bottom while he squirts a hefty amount of soap on it. He feels like crying and he’s tired of crying. He grabs a sponge and digs at the surface of the plate, maybe trying to find the answers to life’s questions hidden underneath the layers of pasta sauce. He finishes rinsing off the plate and dries it before storming out of the flat, blood boiling.

He slams the door on Louis’s shout of surprise and walks until the tears stop.

***

“How was Australia?” Harry asks Zayn, looking up at the night sky. The city lights have polluted the sky and he can’t see even a hint of stars.

They’re laying on a pair of slides in a deserted playground in a place just outside the city. Harry half expected there to be druggies or homeless persons occupying the park, but it’s vacant. It’s nice.

“It’s quiet,” Zayn whispers his reply. He’s stolen Harry’s phone (“He can survive one hour without your god awful jokes, Harry.”) and the two are just taking in the sounds of the wind and muted vehicles.

He hums a response, content. His mind wanders to Louis and he wonders what he’s up to now. Has his mate come back yet? Has he beaten Harry’s score? The silence wraps them up in a comforting blanket until it’s gone. Replaced by a scream. “WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!” a man shouts.

In his surprise, Harry freezes. In Zayn’s surprise, he hops up, grabs Harry’s arm, and pulls them underneath the slides, hiding them from the stranger.

“Who’s bright idea was it to tell the driver to ‘kindly fuck off’?” he asks in a panic.

“Yours,” Harry replies once he finds his voice.

They cling onto each other as the young man (couldn’t be much older than himself) walks over and sits on the newly unoccupied slides. Harry hears the sniffling and silent weeps and can’t just sit around anymore. Zayn makes a sound of protest when he pulls away.

The young man stands up quickly when he sees Harry’s shadowy figure, but Harry is quick to comfort. “Don’t worry, I’m not a slide troll, just an innocent bystander that knows you need a cuddle.”

He moves forward and wraps his arms around the much bigger bloke. He feels the man stiffen a bit before relaxing into the embrace. Zayn climbs out from their hiding spot, but doesn’t join, just watches until he’s certain that the young man won’t hurt Harry.

The stranger is the first to break away. He sits on the slide again, exhausted before placing his head in his hands and saying, “Sorry.”

Harry frowns at this and sits next to him, ignoring Zayn’s hand gestures to leave. “Sorry for what? Your tears ruining my quiff? To hell with that, mate. I’m pretty sure this hairspray could withstand a hurricane. Sorry but your weak tears are not nearly powerful enough.”

The boy laughs at this and wipes at his eyes before questioning, “Why are you in a dress suit?”

“My mate and I just ducked out of a boring party,” he answers him with a shrug. Zayn is silently going ballistic, glaring at Harry over the head of his newly acquired acquaintance.

The boy startles at the answer and turns to Zayn with a whispered, “Mate….?” He freezes and just stares at Zayn expressionless while Zayn forces a polite smile down at him.

There’s a laboured moment where the boy breaks his staring off of Zayn and back to Harry before returning to stare at Zayn. “We aren’t going to hurt you,” Harry says, frowning at how scared and panicked his actions are.

He jumps up and paces, muttering incomprehensibly as Harry and Zayn have a staredown. Zayn relents with an exaggerated eye-roll (losing it’s effect in the shadowy darkness). “Don’t panic, we aren’t armed or anything. Unless you count Harry’s dimples,” he tells the stranger, surging forward with hesitant steps and grabbing onto his shoulders.

The bloke is shocked stiff and Zayn takes the opportunity to guide him back to the slide and setting him down next to Harry again. He sends a final glare at Harry before bending down on his knees before the bloke.

“Okay, we’re harmless. What’s your name?” Zayn demands softly.

“Liam,” the boy breaths, giving in easily. Harry watches with a small smile. Zayn has this effect on people.

Zayn smiles and pats his knee. “Good. See? That wasn’t so hard. Now let Harry comfort you.”

Liam nods and turns expectantly to Harry while keeping his eyes on Zayn. Harry places his hand on his back and traces soothing circles into it. “What’s happened, Liam?” he asks.

Harry suspects that it’s the joint force of Zayn’s hold on his knee and his own soothing backrub that Liam spills. “I’m in love with my roommate, but he’s straight,” he says in one breath, eyes never leaving Zayn’s.

It takes a moment for that to settle, but Harry doesn’t hesitate to wrap the man in his arms. Zayn joins after another second and the three of them cuddle into the slide. “That’s shit, mate,” Harry hears Zayn say, but they stay silent after that.

It’s a few more moments before Liam says, “Please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Zayn responds. Harry can hear it in his voice. He can hear how broken hearted Zayn feels over Liam’s story. He’s always been a secret softy.

Eventually, they get to the point where Liam’s holding Zayn like a teddy bear and the cool metal slide is hard on Harry’s back as he’s been ignored by the other two. Feeling suspiciously like a third wheel, Harry’s twitching to get his phone back and get out of here before he becomes a cockblock.

“Zaynie,” he tries.

“What?” Zayn responds irritatedly, his voice is muffled by Liam’s chest.

Harry fidgets on his back before asking, “Could I have my mobile back? I’m going to go and get us hot chocolate or something while you two….”

“Hot chocolate?” Liam asks.

“Chocolate makes everything better. It’s a scientific fact.” He hops up at this and waits patiently for them to follow. Liam loosens his grip on Zayn and pulls the both of them up. Harry beams once they’re up and about and Zayn shoves his mobile phone in his hand.

“Don’t be long,” he sighs.

Harry waves him off and trots as quickly away as he can, ignoring his itch to check his messages. Once he’s out of hearing, let alone seeing, range of the two, he finally looks at his phone and sees fifteen new messages from Louis:

_Pretty sure that you have an unhealthy obsession with bananas._

_I was just kidding._

_Nope, not kidding. You’re probably a monkey._

_Have I found you out? Is that why you aren’t answering?_

_Harold...you better be climbing a tree right now. Or throwing shit. Preferably both._

_HE’S BACK! YES!!_

_Is it possible to aggressively wash dishes? If so, my roommate is definitely doing that right now._

_Can dishes be broken with a sponge?_

_Harold._

_Harry._

_Monkey-Man?_

_So my roommate just stormed out. He looked like he was crying. What should I do?_

_He hasn’t come back yet and he’s not answering his mobile. Sounds like someone I know._

_Should I call the police?_

_Fuck Harry, what am I supposed to do?!_

Harry’s stomach drops after reading the messages and hits the “call” option before holding his mobile to his ear.

“Harry?” Louis’s voice answers. It’s high-pitched and strained.

It’s probably pathetic that Harry feels both anxious and elated right now hearing Louis’s voice considering the situation that Louis’s dealing with. “Lou,” he breaths, a blush crawling up his neck from his own fond tone.

“He was angry at me, Harry. God, I apologized, but he still stormed out. Now he’s not answering my calls and there are murderers--”

“Lou, relax. Have you called your other friend? The Irish one?” Harry talks quickly, trying to reassure the desperate voice of Louis.

His foot steps in something soft and he looks down to realize that he’s standing in a sandbox. He briefly wonders how strange this would look to other people. He can see the headlines now: International Popstar and Closeted Gay Harry Styles Gets Sand in his Shoes while Trying to Win the Heart of Coffee-Maker Louis Hasn’t-Told-Harry-His-Last-Name-Yet”

“Niall’s at his friend’s house for some fucking boy band emergency,” Louis answers. Harry can hear the panic start to increase.

He decides to do what his mother does. “Relax, Lou. Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, relax. Are you relaxed?” he says while stepping out of the sandbox and towards what looks like a main street.

“Bloody Hell, Har--”

“Are you relaxed?” he demands as he reaches the main road and flags down one of the few passing cabbies.

“Yeah, okay. I’m relaxed.”

He sighs in relief and falls into the cab. “Good now tell me your address. We’ll go look for him together, yeah?”

“Okay yeah, that sounds good,” Louis’s voice finally sounds reassured and he rattles off an address that Harry repeats to the cabbie driver.

The building isn’t far from the park, surprisingly. Just a few blocks and Harry jumps out as soon as the cab stops, throwing more than enough money at the cabbie to pay for the ride. He races up some rickety stairs (Of-bloody-course Louis would live on the top floor) and pauses at the door with the golden lettering 12 tilted ever so slightly to the left.

This is his first time seeing Louis since the coffee shop. Maybe he’s more acquainted with pop culture? Maybe he’ll throw him out the second he sees Harry? Harry shakes these thoughts out reminding himself that Louis needs his help. This is no time to dwell on his own insecurities. It takes him a second, but he pounds on the door and waits.

There is a crash, but Louis opens the door without too much wait. “Harry!” Louis shouts and widens the door for him to pass through. “Why--Are you wearing a bow-tie?”

Harry’s memories are shit, he decides the moment the door opens. He knew Louis was fit, but he’s forgotten just how beautiful he is even in his panicked state. His hair is pulled back in a beanie, emphasizing his cheekbones. He’s thrown on a jumper and a pair of jogging bottoms that hug the tops of his ankles. He’s not wearing any socks with his trainers and for some odd reason, Harry thinks this quirk makes him even more attractive.

Louis rolls his eyes and pulls Harry in by the cuff of his suit jacket. He slams the door after him and points at his outfit.

“Oh yeah, sorry. I just came from a thing and my place is too far away to get a change of clothes…” Harry explains hating the way his face betrays with a blush.

“Okay? Oh Harold...you didn’t have to leave your...thing to help me,” Louis says making Harry curse the way his heart flutters.

 _Get yourself together._ “No, you need me, so I’m here,” Harry replies with a stubborn tilt of his chin.

Louis blinks back his surprise and he shakes his head a bit. “Erm, okay. I’ve got some clothes you can borrow so you don’t bugger up your, er, sparkly boots…?” he says and stares at Harry’s feet.

Hey, Harry’s stylist said they looked good and Harry likes them. It’s not like he’s trying to make a fashion statement. He let’s this thought pass and smiles at Louis in agreement.

Louis doesn’t move to retrieve the new set of clothes, just stares at Harry with a strange look on his face.

“Erm, did you want me to--”

Taylor Swift’s _I Knew You Were Trouble_ cuts Harry off and Louis snaps out of his daze, answering his phone. “Yeah?...He did?! Why didn’t he call me?...You don’t know. Why don’t you ask him then...Why isn’t he with you...where the hell is he then?...why didn’t you ask?...’Distracted by popstars gone missing’ really Niall? I’ve been worried sick!...yeah, yeah, see you tomorrow you tosser.” He finishes the call with an exasperated sigh and throws it on his sofa.

“Is everything okay…?” Harry asks, fidgeting in his sparkly boots.

Louis scoffs, “He called Niall. He’s safe. Don’t know where he is…” Louis grits his teeth, “but he’s okay.”

Harry beams at the news while Louis takes his turn in fidgeting a bit. “Well, since you’re here, did you want to watch the tellie? Oh, you should get back to your party…?” he raises that last statement into a question.

Harry’s beam widens and he looks around the small flat, taking in the peculiar wall paper and little trinkets spread across the joint frontroom and kitchen. It’s no where near as fancy and massive as Harry’s flat, but it’s...nice. It feels more welcoming. He answers Louis’s question by taking a few steps to the sofa and laying himself down on the uncomfortable, ugly cushions.

“Make yourself at home,” Louis teases, waddling over and sitting on Harry’s legs.

They decide on watching a movie and Harry sits up, making room for Louis on the sofa as the opening scene of _The Notebook_ lights up the darkened room. He should pay attention to the film, but he keeps getting distracted by Louis’s fidgeting. He can’t sit still moving his feet, legs, arms, head, anything really, and it should probably be annoying, but Harry can’t help but find it endearing.

“You okay?” he questions.

Louis jumps at his voice and he looks over with big eyes. “Yeah? Why?”

“No reason,” Harry laughs and turns back to the small television screen.

Zayn would be disappointed. Here Harry sits next to Louis, watching a Nicholas Sparks novel being performed in a darkened room just inches from each other and he hasn’t tried anything. He’s nervous! It’s not like any situation he’s been in before. He became a popstar before learning how to properly do anything like this. He’s used to...well...not having to work for it. Harry winces at that thought just as Louis asks, “Are they completely bonkers? What kind of a relationship is that?”

“What?” Harry asks, pulling himself from his thoughts and turning to Louis.

Louis snorts his disgust and explains, “Is that relationship supposed to be passionate or something? They literally just fight and snog. She just pushed him into his own car because he suggested breaking up.”

He should have been paying attention, but, to be fair, he wasn’t expecting a pop quiz and he’s a bit preoccupied trying to keep his hands to himself. “Erm...yes…?”

Louis glares at his answer. “No, that’s not healthy,” he states slowly.

Harry could care less what the characters on the screen are doing so he turns his full body to Louis and asks, “What’s a relationship supposed to be?”

Louis’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he scratches the back of his neck before answering, “Erm, I don’t know, Harry. I know that passion is probably important, but it shouldn’t be the only thing a couple relies on, yeah? Like...there should be trust and loyalty...or what ever else people spew out when they talk about love. Sure, sex is important and people fight, but…” he pauses here, searching for the right words to say, “I think that the boring stuff in between should be romanticized.”

He’s staring at his own hands at this point and Harry just wants to lift his chin and kiss the frown off his lips. His lack of response after a few moments causes Louis to look up and search his eyes. The moment of them staring is intimate, Harry feels it. He wants to pause and keep them at this moment for as long as he can.

Louis’s the first to break the eye-contact and turn back to the film. It’s too far in for Harry to understand (Why is Ryan Gosling obsessing over a house?), so he focuses on matching his breaths to Louis’s and other stupid things. Cataloging the veins on the hand on Louis’s thigh, counting how many times Louis twitches his left foot, even pondering over the rips in his trackies around the knee.

The film ends and Louis jumps up to turn on the lights. “Well that was disappointing,” he announces when he returns, standing in front of Harry and holding out his hand.

He pulls Harry out of the sofa and leads him to the kitchen. “I mean, her fiance wasn’t like a bad guy, you know? Not like Titanic. That bloke had a gun. This guy was perfectly harmless,” he’s talking quickly and searching the cabinets for something.

Harry happens to like the Titanic and is planning on defending the movie’s honour (and Leonardo Dicaprio) when Louis hands him a banana and says, “I don’t know why Liam likes that so much. Always prattling on about Ryan Gosling’s character.”

Liam. Why does that name sound familiar? “Liam?” Harry asks.

“Yeah my roommate? The one we were going to go save because he stormed out without a word, crying?” Louis explains with a wave of his hands.

Harry’s stomach drops and he feels nauseous. “Erm, he doesn’t happen to be gay, would he?” How many Liam’s who fancy their straight roommates could there be?

He laughs at the question. “Yes, Liam’s homosexual. You’ve meet him then?”

“And you’re straight…?” Harry asks the question that’s been on his mind since the day they met.

“Yeah, but I don’t see--”

Harry stands up quickly and pulls his mobile from his pocket and types a message to Zayn.

“Harry?”

He wants to leave. He wants to leave and curl up in his bed. He wants to leave, curl up in his bed, and die of embarrassment. He’s more than certain that his fondness for Louis is obvious. He took a cabbie here, ditching a made-up party just to help him find Liam. The same Liam, of course, that he had already found in tears over Louis.

Louis walks over and puts his hand to Harry’s forehead. “You’ve gone extremely pale, babe. You all right?”

No. Harry is going to get sick all over Louis’s ugly brown carpeting. A buzz alerts him of Zayn’s text and he reads: _“I like him because he’s genuine.” --Good luck._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on my [tumblr](http://jacktheminiatureslayer.tumblr.com/)


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